1878
by Mariyekos
Summary: One day Giorno Giovanna finds himself transported back to London, 1878. Not knowing who sent him or how he got there, he goes to a bar where he runs into a drunkard named Dario Brando. Hearing of the poor condition Dario's son is in, and suddenly realizing why he might have been sent to that particular time and place, Giorno sets out to rescue the boy before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So I posted this on AO3 back when Mudad week was going on, which means it's been written for a while. I'm posting it here too because I might as well, since not everyone reads things from both sites. This was the first thing I've been really excited about writing for a while, and I finished after working on it for 5 or 6 hours straight. Warnings for mentions of alcoholism, child abuse, and violence. Now without further ado, enjoy.**

* * *

The bar was loud, and in combination with the laughing men and screaming drunkards surrounding him, Giorno was developing a headache. The place reeked, and the alcohol they served was not only of terrible quality, but also tasted foul, as though in the aging process it had become home to while swaths of bacteria that were looking to wreak havoc on his body. If Giorno had any choice, he wouldn't be there. He'd much rather drink at his personal bar back in the headquarters at Naples, or even the small hole-in-the-wall place he'd found while digging around in Florida.

But he didn't have a choice. If he wanted someplace to drink and get a meal, this was the only place open in the area. That area being London, 1878. Perhaps "only" place wasn't the best way to put it, but it was the only place he was willing to enter. The rest were far too shady or dirty for his tastes. Mafia boss or not, he still liked to avoid such places when he had the chance. Not to mention that he was completely out of his element, so being somewhere he could sit down and not worry (too much, at least. It was inevitable, and he never could completely calm down his senses) about being mugged was in his best interest.

How he ended up in not only another Hemisphere, but another time, Giorno didn't know. Before being transported, he'd been in Florida, 2012. He suspected it was the work of another Stand User, but he just couldn't wrap his head around how another Stand User could do such a thing. Moody Blues had trouble going back 15 years for a memory. To go back over 130 years, not just to replay a memory but to transport an entire person, was unreal. It shouldn't have been possible. Yet there Giorno was, reading The Times, dated March 21st, 1878.

"Would you like anymore, sir?" a buxom woman asked him, making Giorno look up.

"No thank you, I think I've had enough." Though he'd finished both his glass and plate, Giorno didn't like the food enough to get seconds. The portions were fine, and he wasn't too hungry, so he opted for preserving his health rather than lengthening the amount of time he could go without another meal.

"Well I'll be taking that then! Just call me over if you need any more, mister foreigner!" the woman said in a sultry voice before walking away.

There was another problem Giorno faced. Though he'd managed to get down an English accent to mask his combination Japanese-Italian one a few years ago, the English accent he's mastered was one of the 21st century, not the 19th. So he didn't fit in, despite his best efforts. He'd probably get the 1870s London one down eventually, but for the moment he'd have to stick out more than he already did. Thankfully, he didn't stick out too much in appearance, at the very least.

Giorno had been transported to his current time and location a few hours before, back when it was still light out. After being ignored by everyone he tried to ask for information due to his strange outfit (because there weren't many, if any, outfits that stayed in style for a century and a half), he'd knocked someone out and switched their clothes. They were itchy and different shades of grey, but fit him well enough.

His hairstyle had made him the target of a few japes as well, so he'd undone the frontal curls and put the rest of his hair in a low, ribboned ponytail. The front of his hair was short enough that it didn't fit in though, so it still curled slightly around his cheeks and neck.

A much different style than he'd had back in his own time, but good enough for the moment. He'd stolen at least a few coins from almost everyone he'd passed that looked like they could spare them, so he could buy different clothes later at the very least.

"Excuse me sir," the woman from before asked, looking irritated, "but if you're not planning on getting anything else, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We have other paying customers who would like a place to sit, so if you could free up this space for them it would be much appreciated."

"Of course," Giorno responded, getting to his feet. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

As he headed for the door, suddenly someone bumped into the blond, making Giorno turn around to see a short old man clutching a bottle of whisky sneering at him. Given how many teeth the man was missing it wasn't that intimidating.

"Damn it Dio, haven't I told ya to stay outta my way when I'm drinkin'?!" the man hiccuped.

'...Dio?' Giorno thought, eyes widening.

"Waitta minute… you ain't Dio. You're too old! Stop impersonating my son ya bastard! Seeing him at home is bad enough, I don' wanna see him while I'm at the bar too!"

The man stumbled away, yelling at some woman who was working there. Giorno then felt a large hand clasp his shoulder, turning to face the man who it belonged to.

"Sorry about that, man. The old coot over there's named Dario Brando, and he's always drunk to China and back, causing trouble wherever he can move himself. We'd throw him out, but he spends so much at the bar it'd be bad for business, and it's always funny seeing what kind of problems he gets himself into. With all the money he throws at the waitresses for his next drink, and all the times he's been thrown in jail for not paying bills, stealing, or whatever he's done that time, it's a wonder how he feeds himself, not to mention that kid of his. He's gotta be 10 or 11 now, that Dio. A growing boy needs to eat good to grow big, so I feel bad for the boy. His pop's short as it is, so the boy ain't gonna get tall from his parents. Some of us think the man's beating the poor kid, too, which definitely ain't gonna help him grow up strong. People don't get that many bruises from being clumsy, ya know?" The man sighed.

"Oh well, it ain't my problem. Just don't worry about Dario and his drunken rants, they don't mean anything. Anyway, see ya later, I gotta get back to my own drinking buddies!" the man said with a laugh.

With that the man walked away and Giorno left the bar, furious.

A drunk father who beat his son, huh. How familiar that sounded. Images of his own stepfather came to Giorno's mind, and the phantom pain of slaps and kicks echoed on his skin. That was a situation Giorno couldn't stand for. No one deserved that treatment.

But it wasn't just anyone that was receiving it.

At first, Giorno thought he'd been transported back to some random time and place with no meaning to it. 134 years was a strange number. London, though a big city, was far from where he'd been. But all of a sudden it made sense. Giorno felt like an idiot for not noticing earlier.

From what he'd heard, his father had been born around 1867 or 1868 and had "died" in 1889. Though he'd moved someplace else to join the Joestars, he'd lived in London for the years beforehand. Which meant that here, in 1878, Dio Brando would be a 10 or 11 year old running around London.

The more Giorno thought about it the angrier he got. He took a few breaths to calm down, and stepped into the alley right next to the bar's entrance. There he would wait for Dario to leave and stumble back home so he could get a good look at Dio's condition for himself.

Unfortunately, when Dario did stumble out of the bar an hour later, he only made it about a block before passing out in the middle of the street. Some annoyed passersby rolled him into an alleyway, but the movement didn't wake the man.

As much as Giorno wanted to kick Dario awake and force the old man to bring him to his house, Giorno decided to walk away. As much as he hated himself for leaving, he knew that Dio would survive another day without Giorno's help. He'd lived for at least another 12 years in the original timeline. Hopefully this new one wasn't too different yet.

For the moment, Giorno had to come up with some way to not only get Dio out of his current situation, but convince the boy that he was a good person, and that he should live with Giorno instead. From what Giorno understood Dio was an analytical man, and though as a child he might be slightly less wary, Giorno knew better than to assume Dio would follow him without question. Based off his own demeanor and approach to life after growing up with an abusive father, Giorno knew he wouldn't blindly do so. Which meant he first had to gain Dio's trust. How to do it was the question.


	2. Chapter 2

Giorno's plan began with a fruit cart.

Though he thoroughly enjoyed history, and had spent a great deal of time studying it when he had the chance, Giorno had never focused on Victorian England. He prefered ancient empires and the complex wars and unique cultures that came with them. However, he did know one thing about the time he was living in. And that was that the peasantry was always hungry.

Fruit wasn't the most filling, nor was it especially popular (though the latter may have been due to availability - from what he understood, fruit was hardly ever even an option for most people living in the city slums, and when it was it was beyond rotten). But thanks to Gold Experience, he could grow it with ease, meaning he could sell it for cheap. And where there was cheap food, there were hordes of hungry customers.

In no time Giorno was attracting customers from across the city, who were ready to get food that not only took fewer coins than anything else of comparable size, but was sweet and not poisonous. Not that they knew much about the last part, since health codes didn't really exist in ways comparable to his home time, but it was a comfort to Giorno at the very least.

His own pockets became heavy enough, and after a week or so, Giorno caught sight of the person he'd wanted to see the most. There, flipping an apple over a few times, was Dio Brando. There, just a few feet away, was a child who would grow to one day be his father, at least in one timeline. Though he was much smaller and younger than the man in the photo, Giorno knew the boy in from of him was the one and only Dio. He couldn't be anyone else.

"Do you want it?" Giorno called out to the boy. Dio's head snapped over to look at the fruit seller. Caution in his eyes.

"...No, not today," Dio responded.

"Why not?" Giorno asked back.

"I'm not hungry, thank you very much." The boy sounded slightly irritated, but Giorno could make out a slight hint of longing in his voice.

"Really? Because I was thinking about giving you a whole case of apples for free. And maybe of even throwing in a few bananas and an armful of oranges. But if you're not hungry, I guess I'll keep them, then."

Dio's eyes widened. "You… what?"

Giorno smiled, happy to see that his offer was starting to work. "I said I was thinking of handing over some stuff to you, free of charge. Maybe it's because you're a little cleaner than most people I see around here, so your hair is a little more gold than most, but you remind me of me when I was a kid. Back then I had someone do me a favor that helped lift me up from the… well, not-so-good situation I was in, and I've always dreamed of doing something similar since then. This is a lot different, and I don't really know about your situation, but helping you out seems like a good way to achieve my dream. That, and you seem like someone who deserves it. I can tell you're a smart kid based on how you're actually checking the quality of my goods rather than just snatching the closest ones, so you deserve it more than most.

"So, what do you say? I'll load the stuff up right away if you say yes."

Dio kept silent for a moment, looking Giorno over. He moved a hand to his stomach, clenching it slightly with a frown. His eyes wandered back over to the various fruits in front of him. He took a step toward a pineapple that Giorno had on display, and turned it over. Then, he faced Giorno with a determined look in his eye.

"That sounds good. I'd like that."

Giorno gave an internal fist pump, and his smile widened.

Dio continued. "But... Is it okay if I take only a few things each day, and get stuff from my crate for a week? I can't take it all right now. It's too heavy, you see," he explained.

Giorno's heart clenched a little at that. The crate wasn't too heavy. He and Dio both knew that. But if Dio took home the whole thing his father would get suspicious. That, or he'd sell the fruit again for triple the price so he could get some more booze. The fact that Dio realized it at such a young age hurt Giorno. But that was the way it was, and for the moment, Giorno couldn't help it. So, for the moment, he simply nodded.

"Of course, kiddo."

Dio frowned. "It's not kiddo. My name is Dio."

The little glare he gave made Giorno' smile waver as he tried to hold back a laugh. The look was absolutely adorable. And strong, too. Giorno could see why people seemed to do anything future Dio had asked as a child his glares and orders held weight. It was impressive.

"Nice to meet you, Dio. My name is Giorno. It seems we have a deal.

"I'm here with my stand as long as the sun is up, so don't worry about coming at a specific time to collect on your fruit. I do have to make a living, and people would start asking for free fruit of their own if they saw you grabbing things without paying every day, so I only ask that you fill your crate in advance. That way I can tell people that you're only taking what I've already sold to you. Is that fine?"

"Yes. Thank you, sir," Dio responded, moving to fill the half-full apple crate Giorno had pushed over.

As Dio grabbed various oranges, peaches, and other fruits, Giorno smiled. Though he wasn't too happy that Dio lived in a situation that he couldn't take everything home at once, it worked out for him. The fact that Dio had to keep coming back meant Giorno would get the opportunity to see him every day, and hopefully to strike up a conversation. Not only did he want to build trust with the young boy, but he knew that Dio hardly had anyone to talk to at home or in the streets. If Giorno could be the outlet Dio used to talk about his problems, or even to have basic human interaction, then he'd do whatever it took to keep up the conversation. Nobody deserved silence.

* * *

"I'm here to pick up my fruit."

"Of course, I'll get it out for you."

"Thanks."

"Is that all you're taking?"

"I already ate lunch, so I don't need more. See you tomorrow, Giorno."

"See you tomorrow, Dio."

* * *

"Ready for another fruit pick up?"

"Why else would I be here, Giorno?"

"Good point. My dragonfruit tree is finally getting ready to drop, and gave me a pretty big one this morning, so I threw that in your crate. It has a really unique flavor, so I thought you'd like to try."

"Dragonfruit…?"

"Don't tell me you've never heard of it!"

"I've heard of dragons, and I know what fruit is, but not dragonfruit. Are you making that up?"

"Of course not. Here, look. Technically it's called a Pitaya, but it got its name from the pink spines…"

* * *

"Giorno, have you ever read Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea?"

"No, but I've heard nothing but good things about it. Tell me, what is it about?

"Well, there's this one man who…"

* * *

"What do you mean you prefer Around the World in Eighty Days!? The Mysterious Island is much better."

"Are you sure, Dio? The last time I visited the bookstore, there was a full shelf filled with copies of the first one. I saw only a single copy of the second."

"If there was a full shelf full, then that means no one bothered to buy a copy. If you asked Jules Verne himself, he would surely tell you that The Mysterious Island is better."

"And how does it compare to Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea? Of those two, which do you think Verne is more proud of?"

"Well, if you think about number of copies published, then…"

* * *

"If you ask me, I think the man should have been arrested."

"Why do you say that?"

"Did you see Margaret? Her skin was more purple than her dress! That doesn't come from a single instance of roughhousing. Not to mention that anyone who passed by David's house over the past week could hear her screams. The police here are beyond terrible. They don't care at all for the health of us stupid slum rats."

"Dio…"

"I mean, just look at how m-"

"Dio?"

"Nothing. It's getting late. My father wouldn't like it if I came home late. I'll see you tomorrow, Giorno."

* * *

"What's this?"

"I told you, it's steak. Now eat up."

"You can't seriously be thinking of giving this to me. It's meat! You surely know how precious this is!"

"Yes, I do. I also know that I far overestimated the size of my stomach when I bought this earlier. If I don't eat it tonight, then it will go bad. Now eat up Dio. I don't like letting food go to waste."

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome. Having you here to talk to every day is an even better treat than this steak. It's only right that I give you something in return."


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you again, Mr. Giovanna. I don't know what I would do without you. Your fruits are one of the few things I can afford, and the best tasting things I can afford by far."

Giorno smiled. "You're welcome! It's nice to know I could help. Have a nice day, Mrs. Smith."

"And a nice day to you as well," the old lady replied, wandering off down the street.

Once she was out of sight, a frown formed on Giorno's face. It had been a week since Dio had first appeared to pick up his fruit, and the boy had come every day before dark without fail. Every day he came over with a small bag, ready to load in however much he felt like taking home.

But it was almost 11PM, and Dio had yet to show. The sun had long since set.

It wasn't as though Dio had run out of food, and stopped coming because he didn't have the money to buy more. His crate still had enough for at least one last pick-up. But Dio hadn't shown.

A terrible feeling grew in Giorno's stomach. Had he been wrong when he didn't follow Dario home? Had he made a mistake he couldn't recover from?

The only reason he was still out at 11 was that he was waiting for Dio. Perhaps the boy just wasn't able to get to the stall during the day, and that was why he didn't come. After all, Giorno had told him that his stall was open "as long as the sun is up," so maybe Dio thought Giorno would be closed down as soon as the sun dipped over the horizon, meaning a trip over would be pointless.

But Giorno couldn't convince himself that was true. No matter what stories he conjured up, none stuck with him more than the one nagging at him from the back of his head that his presence had somehow lead to Dio d….

He didn't want to admit it. He wouldn't let himself admit it. So, Giorno packed up the remains of his goods and walked back to his apartment.

His mind raced with the possibilities of what could have happened to Dio while he walked home, leading to Giorno turning down the wrong street and not noticing until he'd walked a considerable distance. He at least knew where he was, though, so he continued weaving through the streets to find his way home, even if it wasn't his usual route.

While walking he noticed a small lump outside the door of one particularly run down place, shivering slightly. It was too small to be an adult, and Giorno couldn't help but feel bad for the kid. He couldn't help every person he met, though. Living in London for the past few weeks had taught him that. So, he took a pear from his bag and put it down in front of the lump, crouching so he could set it on the ground.

When he did he saw blond hair. No, not just blond. Gold.

"Dio!?" Giorno gasped, going stiff.

"Dio!" He exclaimed again, shaking the boy and praying he was okay.

"Mmmm. What the…? Giorno? What are you doing here!?" Dio shot back against the wall, eyes wide and hands clenching the sack he was using as a blanket so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

"I'm walking home, and took a wrong turn. But what about you? It's freezing out here. I've been able to see my breath for a few hours, and the temperature is only dropping. Don't you have a place to stay?" Giorno breathed a sigh of relief, beyond happy to see that Dio was alive. The fact that he was sleeping outside in such weather angered the older blond, but given what he'd seen and heard of Dario, it wasn't surprising.

Dio glance at the door he was sitting by, with a dark expression. "Normally I do but tonight… I…" he trailed off.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But I don't like the idea of you freezing to death out there. Do you want to come over to my place? I don't have a couch, so we'd either have to share a bed or I'd have to sleep on the floor, but I'll make it work," Giorno explained.

"That…" Dio looked down, sending one last glance at the door. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll follow you, then."

"Of course."

The two walked silently back to Giorno's apartment, with Giorno throwing small glances over to Dio every minute or so. He was so small. Giorno's fruit had to make up at least half of what he was eating at that point.

When they were about a minute away, Dio stumbled and fell. Gold Experience reacted to Giorno's shock and caught the boy before he could fall, Giorno bringing Dio into his arms a moment later. He was momentarily worried that Dio would have questions about the invisible being that stopped his fall, but when Giorno grabbed the boy he found his eyes to be closed. Bringing a hand to Dio's forehead, Giorno discovered he was running a fever and cursed under his breath.

'They're all the same, aren't they. Terrible fathers… I'm so sorry, Dio. I'm sorry I let this continue. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. But you won't have to suffer much longer.'

Giorno carried Dio back to his apartment, using Gold Experience to unlock and open the door. He set Dio down on his bed, swaddling the child in blankets before moving to start a fire in his fireplace. The boy needed a good meal. Giorno got out a pot and filled it with water, adding in chicken and a few instantly-grown vegetables. Soup was one of the best cures for a fever, at least one of the best available, so Giorno wasn't going to wait on making it. He hung the pot over the fire, having Gold Experience watch it while he went back over to Dio.

Even in the mass of blankets he was covered in, Dio still shivered. Now out of the freezing outdoor air, sweat was able to form on the boy's forehead, dampening his hair. Giorno grabbed a spare ribbon from one of his drawers and tied it out of the way. That would hopefully make Dio a little more comfortable.

Giorno stayed there for a few minutes, simply petting Dio's head and whispering to the boy to tell him he was safe, and that he'd be okay. But eventually Gold Experience sent back a signal that meant the soup was ready, and Giorno rose to get it.

A shaking hand gripped his fingers before he could walk away though, holding him in place.

"...don't go…"

Giorno choked up at the two words. He knelt back down. "Don't worry Dio, I'm not leaving you. I'm just grabbing some soup, and then I'll be back in a moment. Wait for me until then, and I promise I'll be back."

He slowly slipped his hand away, setting Dio's back on the covers before hurrying to grab a bowl and bring it back. Gold Experience handed him one once he reached the pot, Giorno quickly filling it and grabbing a spoon on his way back.

He knelt back at Dio's bedside, softly shaking the boy awake.

"Dio," he started, watching the boy's eyes lazily open, "open up. You've got a fever, and fighting it on an empty stomach isn't going to help at all. I have some soup here. Do you want me to feed you, or can you do it yourself?"

In all honesty, Giorno would rather spoon the soup to Dio than have the boy attempt to balance both it and the bowl. But he didn't want to press too fast and make Dio uncomfortable. He would work at whatever pace Dio wanted.

Dio took a deep breath. "...I'll do it. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Just concentrate on getting better," Giorno responded, handing Dio the bowl.

Dio put it in his lap, shifting slightly so his back was against the headboard. Slowly, he ate the bits of chicken, celery, and other things in the soup, lifting the bowl to his lips to drink the rest of the broth when he was done. His face was flushed when he brought it back down, handing it to Giorno.

"Thank you," he repeated, sliding back down under the covers.

"You're welcome once again," Giorno said back.

He left for a moment to finish what remained of the soup in the pot, cleaning it up afterwards. Then Giorno grabbed the spare pillow he kept on a chair near the door, as well as the blanket that stayed under the foot of the bed. He set them on the floor and got on the ground to sleep when he heard Dio's voice once again.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor. Dio told him, "You can sleep up here, if you want. I'll allow it." His voice was slightly muffled by the pillow he had in front of his face.

Giorno then rose, grabbing the pillow and putting the blanket back where he found it. "You'll allow it, huh? You're so kind as to let me sleep in my own bed?"

"Exactly," Dio responded, voice slightly slurred and much quieter.

"Well, who would I be to pass up such an offer from the great Dio Brando." Giorno climbed into bed. Settling under the blankets. "Good night, Dio."

"Good night, Giorno."

With that, the two went to sleep.

* * *

When Giorno woke up in the morning, it was to find that Dio had turned in his sleep, wrapping his arms around Giorno's chest. The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, if the soft rays coming through Giorno's window meant anything, indicating it was time for him to get up and set out for another day of fruit sales. But Dio was still fast asleep, and Giorno wasn't going to disturb him. So, he summoned Gold Experience and had it close the curtains, turning back to face Dio.

The boy felt cooler than the night before, though Giorno could tell he wasn't back to perfect condition yet. Still, it was a welcome improvement. And much better than anything sleeping on the street would have done for the boy.

Giorno looked at Dio for a little while longer, before hugging the boy back and letting his mind wander, drifting off to sleep himself.

* * *

After that, whenever Dio found himself kicked out of Dario's, he'd wander over to Giorno's apartment, knocking in such a way Giorno knew who it was without even looking.

The crate was refilled, and if Dio noticed (which he surely did), he made no comment. The two of them didn't speak much about Dio's home life, Giorno's background, or that first night Dio went home with Giorno, but they got along well.

Dio still turned up with fresh bruises much more often that Giorno was comfortable with, but pressing would only drive the boy away. One day, though, he showed up to Giorno's apartment in the middle of the night, limping terribly and holding his side far tighter than someone with a simple cramp did.

"Dio!? What happened?"

Giorno unlocked his door and watched as Dio limped in, practically collapsing into the chair by the fireplace.

"He sold it." Dio's voice was barely a whisper, unshed tears shining in his eyes. "He sold the last thing I had of her."

Dio brought a hand up to his face, flinching as it made contact with the cheek that was developing what appeared to be a heavy bruise.

Giorno lit a fire moving back over to the boy.

"What did he sell?"

"Her dress," Dio choked out. "That bastard sold mother's dress. It was all I had left of her. It was my last piece!" His voice filled with rage, and Dio punched the arm of the chair, the tears finally slipping out.

"..." Giorno didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? Here, let me look you over. You're hurt, and I don't want you getting an infection."

Giorno picked up the leg opposite the one Dio had been leaning on, looking it over. Sure enough, he had a sprained ankle. Not to mention the bruises that peppered it from the knee down.

Next Giorno looked at the spot on his side that Dio had been holding, lifting the boy's shirt slightly so he could see what the problem was. And there was a problem: embedded in Dio's skin was a large shard of glass. There were small pieces surrounding it as well, colored the same. Dario must have hit the boy with a bottle.

"Dio…" Giorno whispered, feeling bad when the boy flinched. "Listen Dio, I can help fix your side and your leg right now. But it's going to hurt. Do you want me to fix it now, or do you want to do it the long way? The long way will just be natural healing, and I'm sure you've been through that before. It hurts, but probably not as bad as this will. Which would you prefer."

"Fast." Dio didn't hesitate in his response.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's not like I haven't been hurt before. This will be nothing."

"...I'll be right back."

Giorno moved toward the kitchen, reaching into the cabinet as if he was grabbing something. Instead, he used Gold Experience to grow a new plant, one with numbing effects. It wasn't perfect, and Giorno didn't want to risk giving Dio too much and hurting him worse, but it would dull the pain at least a little.

He went back over to Dio, handing him a few leaves. "Eat this. It'll help numb you so it won't sting as bad. Then, in a few minutes, I'll get to work."

Dio nodded, slowly tasting one of the leaves before quickly eating the rest.

Five minutes later he was on Giorno's bed, looking in the other direction.

Five more minutes later he was asleep, ankle completely healed, and side healed as well as Giorno could manage without getting himself hunted down for performing "magic." It was far better treatment than Dio would have received in any hospital he could go to, and as long as the boy didn't do anything strenuous, he would be fine.

With that Giorno out on his coat and shoes, leaving to hit up every pawn shop and clothing store he could find.

* * *

It took him three nights, but eventually Giorno found the pink dress that Dario had sold three nights before. The one that must have belonged to Dio's mother.

Dio hadn't left Giorno's apartment since he came in with heavy injuries, so when Giorno walked in with the dress, Dio saw right away. Tears once again rose in his eyes, a quiet "thank you" just barely leaving his lips.

When Dario Brando was found dead in his room the next day, no one said a thing. When Giorno Giovanna and Dio Brando disappeared three days later, the only comments made were "Good for the kid, getting away from that damn drunkard," and "Oh, but his prices were so good! Where am I going to find a fruit seller like that again!"


	4. Chapter 4

Two years later, Dio and Giorno found themselves in Liverpool. The two had been travelling as half-brothers, Giorno's ever present fruit sales funding the trip. Giorno had made sure to devote a good portion of the money to Dio's education (as well as his own studies, since many things he knew hadn't been discovered yet and were thus "wrong"), so the boy was well on his way to joining high society. As it was, his manners were impeccable (when he wanted them to be), and he could charm just about anyone he spoke to. Though he had a bit of an attitude, he and Giorno got along well.

When Giorno had finally decided to settle down in Liverpool to start up a real fruit farm, buying enough acres that he would have no reason to limit the types of fruit he could sell, Dio asked him why. Why Liverpool, after travelling so far and for so long?

Giorno's only response was that it felt right. He didn't know why he wanted to live there. But something about Liverpool felt right. Like there was some invisible force pulling him there.

One day, about a month after the two "brothers" took up residence in the town, Dio met a boy around his age, chasing after a spotted dog.

"Danny, no!" The boy cried, chasing the dog down near the river. "Give it back!" he shouted, running as fast as he could after the dog. Which, conveniently, was toward where Dio and Giorno were standing.

"Hm?" Dio hummed, watching the dog come near. As it neared them it suddenly threw whatever it had in its mouth away, the item falling into the rushing river.

"Danny! Oh no, what am I going to do now!" The boy fell down, twenty or so feet away from the two blonds.

Dio looked at him momentarily before, with a nudge from Giorno, hopping into the river to grab the item which was passing by them. The current was strong, almost dragging him away, but Giorno's grip kept Dio from going anywhere. Giorno then pulled Dio out of the water, smiling at him while Giorno gave him an angry frown. Clearly, he wasn't happy with having to jump in the river to help some random boy he'd never met, especially not one that seemed to hold a "woe is me" attitude, but he wouldn't say no to Giorno.

"Did you lose this?" Dio said, walking up to the sobbing boy.

"Huh?" the boy said, looking up. "Oh, my watch!" he exclaimed, "Yes, I did. Thank you so much! I don't know what father would have done had I lost this."

The boy's smile was bright, and for whatever reason Giorno felt some sort of kinship with him.

Dio frowned again. "Well, be more careful next time. Watches aren't chew toys. Don't give them to your-"

"Dio," Giorno warned.

Dio sighed. "Sorry, what I mean is watch your things next time. It may have worked out this time, but you don't know how things will go next time. Just be careful, okay? Not many people are willing to dive into rivers for strangers. You should be honored."

The boy laughed. "Yeah, sure. You're a real gentleman, you know? Doing something for someone even though you don't know them. I aspire to be that kind of person. I'm sure Father would be happy if I was. Speaking of Father, he's probably wondering where I am right now. I have to get back! Anyway, it was nice meeting you, and I hope to see you again! Bye!"

Running back the way he came, the boy gave a small wave, calling for his dog to follow them. Once he was out of sight, Dio scoffed.

"What a dumb kid," Dio muttered.

Giorno gave a short laugh. "Oh come on, Dio. He's not that bad. Maybe a little naive, but I bet he's smarter than you'd think."

"He's lazy, that's what he is! When his own very expensive looking watch fell into the river he didn't even bother attempting to retrieve it!" pressed Dio, gesturing to emphasize his point.

"Dio, if he was lazy, he wouldn't have bothered chasing his dog all this way. And you felt the current when you dove in. Had I not held onto you, you would likely have been swept away. Had he jumped in without support, he most definitely would have been swept away. So he's no dumb kid. He knew when to try, and when not to. He's just a little unfortunate," Giorno would defend the silly boy's case. He felt the boy deserved it.

"Whatever you say, Gio," Dio finally relented.

"You know I'm right," Giorno shot back.

"Psh." Dio turned and walked away, heading toward their house and a set of dry clothes.

* * *

A week later, Dio and Giorno were walking through town when they heard a familiar voice shout: "Hey, it's them!"

Turning, they saw the boy from the river running toward them, followed by a tall, nicely dressed man.

"These are the men who helped me a week ago! The younger one is the one who heroically leapt into the raging river to save the watch you gave me!" The boy rushed with excitement.

"Oh really?" the older man, likely his father, responded. He looked toward Dio. "Tell me young man, is what my son says true?"

Dio gave a small bow. "He makes it sound more impressive than it was, but yes, sir, I did help him get his watch back from the river about a week back."

The man smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling somewhat. "Then that deserved thanks. Tell me, what are your names?"

"My name is Dio Brando, and this is my older brother, Giorno Giovanna," Dio said, gesturing toward Giorno.

"Different last names?" the man sounded confused, looking toward Giorno for an explanation.

"Though we have the same father, we have different mothers. My mother raised me in Italy, where I took on the name Giovanna. Dio, on the other hand, was raised in London by our father Dario." Mastering the accent proved harder than Giorno had imagined, so he decided saying he was born in Italy would work better. Most British people wouldn't realize his Italian accent wasn't that currently spoken in Italy, as it was close enough to the correct accent, and they hardly met any Italians anyway.

"Dario? Wait… Your father wouldn't have happened to have mentioned anything about a carriage accident he happened upon 12 or so years ago, would he?"

"He did, why?" Dio had a puzzled look on his face.

"Tell me, how is Dario?"

Dio's face darkened, and Giorno took the opportunity to speak. "Unfortunately he fell ill around two years ago. I took Dio in around then, and we've been travelling ever since. We've finally decided on settling down here, though, so we won't be travelling much from now on, though."

"Ah, I'm sorry for your loss. Dario helped save the lives of both me and my son Jonathan here those 12 years ago, and I've felt as though I've owed him a favor ever since. Now his son has done my son a favor, and I am once again in debt. Tell me, will you two join us for dinner? It's the least I can do."

'Jonathan…? Wait does that mean…'

"That sounds great. What do you think, Gio?" Dio looked hopeful.

"I think that's a great idea as well," Giorno replied.

"Fantastic! Well then, introductions are in order. My name is George Joestar, and as I briefly mentioned, this is my son Jonathan. Our mansion is quite a ways away, so you'll have to wait a few minutes for the carriage to arrive, but I'll show you around our humble abode quite shortly. If you would wait here a short moment, I have some quick business to attend to."

George then left, leaving Jonathan with Dio and Giorno.

They were quiet for a moment, before Jonathan suddenly perked up. "Hey, is that a copy of The Mysterious Island? I've been looking for that everywhere! I've already read Around the World in Eighty Days and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, but from what I've heard that one is even better! Do you think you could lend it to me?"

Dio blushed slightly, taken aback. He looked to Giorno, who smiled down at him and whispered "I guess you were right," before patting Dio to tell him to respond.

"Yes, it is. And what you've heard is right, The Mysterious Island is surely one of Verne's better works, because…"

Giorno chuckled, looking around. It looks like destiny had a way of making things right, somehow. There were Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando, united, but this time as friends rather than enemies. And there Giorno was, finally getting a chance to bond with his father, even if it was as the older figure of the pair.

He didn't know why he had been transported back to 1878. But he did know that he was thankful for the chance.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And there it is!**

 **I haven't read Over Heaven (mostly because I've heard it's terrible, and messes up Dio's character) so if anything I've written contradicts that, then too bad. It's technically not canon, anyway. But I do know that there's something between Dio and Jonathan involving a watch. So here's this universe of that. I also had the two meet because it just wouldn't be JoJo without that, you know?**

 **Anyway, I hope this was okay! If you have time to leave a comment, that would make my day. As for Dio's character, he starts out this fic as 10 or 11 (the wiki says Dio is 20 or 21 at the end of Phantom Blood, so that's why he gets an "or" age), which is why he might not be as sharp witted/use as nice phrasing as he does in canon. I upped it a little for the end, as you can hopefully tell, and I hope I did him justice! He's a kid, and hadn't yet been driven to the point where he decided to poison Dario, so that's why I show him as a little softer. That, and Giorno is there, who I think is probably the softest of all the Jojos bar Jonathan. Even Josuke is a little harsher (at least in general. in his way of speech, at least, giorno is a little more polite). So Giorno's presence would change Dio a little, but hopefully I didn't go overboard. And as for Jonathan, he's a little overdramatic brat when he's introduced in Phantom Blood. More-so in the manga than the anime, but overdramatic and a bit whiny nonetheless. I still love him though.**

 **Thanks again for reading, and leave a comment if you want me to continue this. I don't know if I will, but if you guys want a continuation, then I'll try to think something up.**

 **Eruran out.**


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